


Moving On

by laeb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bring tissues, Casualties of War, Implied Torture, Implied Violence, M/M, Mentions of non canon deaths, Not Canon Compliant, Written Pre-Half Blood Prince, implied emotional and physical manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-13
Updated: 2004-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23062462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laeb/pseuds/laeb
Summary: Once upon a time, there existed the Boy-Who-Lived and there also lived the son of a Death Eater. One dark night, as the War draws closer, One seeks the Other, and a tragedy slowly unveils – though it will take hours, days, weeks, months or maybe years before everything comes to a proper End.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 2





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> (PLEASE READ THE TAGS--there are many non-Drarry deaths of characters who canonically stay alive and a lot of implied violence.)
> 
> The lyrics in italic are Fiona Apple’s The Way Things Are, they are NOT mine.
> 
> Beta: yehnica... who else? Also tracy7307,rotschopf, dalehead and Dorothy . Thank you for the support and comments.
> 
> Dedication: Lottie, for the tears in her eyes when she read this. Again, I’m terribly sorry – I never meant to.
> 
> Originally published on my lj in August 2004. Retro-posted to AO3 in March 2020.

**_oving On..._**  
  
 _I wouldn't know what to do with another chance  
If you gave it to me_  
  
  
I can’t believe we found ourselves in this situation all over again. You and me, light and dark, hope and despair. Our roles are inversed, though, this time - or haven’t you noticed? I am dark and desperate, where you found the light. Who would have thought that, six years ago? Who would have said that you would extend your hand to me, earnestness in your eyes, and flickers of something remotely acquainted to hope - and who would have thought that of you, Draco Malfoy? Who would have thought you’d be the one who’d beg for me all over again?  
  
For reasons I cannot fathom, you are willing and ready to forgive and forget, to ask for my forgiveness as well, to make peace with Ron and Hermione, too. I have this feeling that the War being near has smashed into you with a realism I can’t even begin to understand. After all, you have changed allegiance last year, imposing yourself forcefully, your head high and proud amongst the Slytherins, even convincing some that this was for the best - their best, at least; and I’m a rag doll in the hands of our elders, of the wisest wizards of the Light and I’m not asked, I’m not told, I’m only ordered around.  
  
And I bend.  
To their will, to their pleas, to their orders.  
  
I gave up arguing, questioning, refusing; for their only response is ‘Foolish child! Don’t you know what you’ll put us through if you refuse to do it?’  
  
And I don’t want to be a foolish child anymore; do I, Draco Malfoy? And I wonder, I wonder at what you’re asking of me, what you want of me, what it would be that you would gain from a relationship with me. There’s nothing to gain; not anymore, anyways. The War grows closer, and my Fate is no secret to anyone: to kill or get killed. And there’s still a chance I’ll die after murdering Voldermort. How could I impose that to anyone, really?  
  
Are you certain you want me to reach out and grab your hand, Malfoy? Are you sure you can face the consequences it’ll have on you and on me? I have very little to offer you, there’s even less I can guarantee I’ll be able to provide you ...  
  
Don’t you understand this is who I’ve become? I’m a pet, Draco Malfoy, a pet trained to give without expecting anything in return – fearing to get anything in return. This might be dangerous for me, to get anything. I can’t have any possessions, ‘cause it might imply I can hope and hope is something I’ve forbidden myself; it can be taken away from me. I fear hope and expectations, avoid them like the plague; anyone could shatter them and I’m already vulnerable enough, am I not?  
  
  
 _I couldn't take the embrace of a real romance  
Its race right through me_  
  
  
Your eyes keep on pleading me, asking, requiring an answer I am less than eager to give you - especially at this moment; but at the same time I understand - it might as well be our only chance, our only opportunity. What do you want with this request, Draco Malfoy? What is it that you’re looking for, with me, right here and now? I might be dead a week from now; I have so very little to offer and have no wish to take anything from you.  
  
Maybe not, but you’re not supposed to know that.  
  
You’re supposed to despise me, no matter which side you’re fighting for now. You’ve hated me for six years, couldn’t you have kept on hating me for another couple of weeks? Maybe just mourn my departure in silence? Send my grave a little extra sneer once I would be six feet under? Wouldn’t it have been more simple, more easy; both for you and for me?  
  
But we never picked the easy path, the two of us, have we? In a way or another, we always ended up fighting, complicating things when we could have simply ignored the existence of each other - it would have made things simple. And I know how you hate when things are too easy and simple and clear, Draco Malfoy. I know it.  
  
So, once more, what we have shall be complicated. I can’t be involved with you, right here and now; or at the very least, not until Voldemort is gone. I would never let myself fall for you and would refuse to let you do that as well. There would be no point in doing so, it would be stupid, in a way, to be hurt mutually ‘cause we know we have very little left to be fond of, to believe in, to live for. But this, Draco Malfoy, would also mean that I’d have another weakness people, of the Light or Dark, could use against me - to hurt me or to make me act in a way I would refuse, rag doll or not - and they’ve already got more than enough to manipulate me to do as they want. Don’t add to it, please. Just ... don’t. Wait, it might be worth the wait. Though, who knows how long the War will last, in the end?  
  
Hours?  
Days?  
Weeks?  
Months?  
Years?  
  
Does it matter? I can’t offer you what you want and yet I wish I could provide you with something - but I gave up everything: all I’ve got left is myself and you could see, if you had a long and careful look, that there’s nothing left worth more than a quick glance.  
  
Maybe someday when it’s over, Draco Malfoy.  
  
  
 _I'm much better off the way things are  
Much much better off, better by far, by far_  
  
  
It’s not that I like what we’re going through, or that I relish in the excuses I’m giving you just for the sake of it or ‘cause I don’t want to have anything to do with you. It’s just ... I don’t have much of a choice now, do I? I know, I know, the War has brought most people together, giving them the last bit of resolve they needed to let their cherished ones know how much they care, how much they regret, how much they love.  
  
I care. I care for Hermione, I care for Ron, I care for Remus and even Luna. I don’t care much for Dumbledore or even Snape anymore, because they are my Fate, they are God and they have already planned what they will do of me, what I shall do to get my Redemption for being born the 31st of July 1980 as Harry James Potter, for getting my parents in the way of my death, and surviving. Perhaps, one day, the Wizarding community will forgive and forget Harry Potter, just like you did, Draco Malfoy.  
  
But I don’t believe one word I said.  
They will not forgive, nor forget.  
  
I have a tag - a scar, really - on my forehead that says words I can’t bear to hear anymore - they make me shudder with disgust and truly it’s appalling. But I am not sure I would want you to forget about Harry Potter, Malfoy. I think you are part of my balance; I need you around to function properly. Especially now, you help me keep a clear mind, before the Wise Ones cloud it with whispers and promises and suggestions I cannot decide over, that I’m expected to follow, _à la letter_.  
  
Pathetic puppet I am.  
  
But why am I complaining? Soon, in a way or another, everything will be over and I will live again. Or maybe I won’t, but at least things will be settled and everyone else will be relieved to finally be able to go back to normal, to live again. Children will smile and not cry, teenagers will laugh and not frown.  
  
Do you know when I last laughed, Draco Malfoy? I cannot remember. I try and I cannot seem to identify a moment when I was able to feel happy or sarcastic enough to laugh. Even if it would be an unhappy laugh, it would be laughter nonetheless. And now there is none and it doesn’t look like anyone’s caring much about it. I should have learned my lesson ages ago, but you know, I’ve always had this Gryffindor thing in me saying that at some point I’d get what I deserve.  
  
And you’re so much more than I’ll ever deserve, Draco Malfoy.  
  
  
 _I wouldn't know what to say to a gentle voice  
It'd roll right past me_  
  
  
I’ve forgotten how it was, to be asked for things, to be told that my opinion mattered, that things wouldn’t be done against my will. Can you believe that, you who’ve known me all these years? You’re talking to a robot – a Muggle thing, nevermind - someone programmed to accomplish an objective. But what will happen once it will – I will – be done? Will they toss me aside? Is it what I want? What I wish for?  
  
Who am I, Draco Malfoy? What do I want? I keep telling myself that they know best, that they know what they’re doing, that it’s for the Greater Good, but it doesn’t help me to feel any better - shouldn’t it make me feel proud to accomplish this task for the Wizarding world, for the sake of thousands?  
  
And why, anyway, have you taken on being so nice, now? Why are you listening silently, nodding once in a while as though you would understand all that I mean, all that I say and all that I keep silent and away from you? Why do I feel as though you are _aware_ of more than you will let on? It _almost_ feels as though you being here is not a chore and yet I wonder about your motives ...  
  
Do you have any idea of my complete distrust of people now, Draco Malfoy? How honest people lured me into doing things against my free will in the first place by being nice and understanding with me ... Snape did, Dumbledore has always done so and will never stop no matter what; and my best friends, well, if people ever used that against me, that would be them. Even if it was for meaningless things, they would use this gentle, pleading tone, look at me with slight, sometimes fake despair in their eyes and bend me to their will, not unlike everyone else. But where the other were adults, members of the Order who had goals to justify their means; these two were my friends. My friends, for fuck’s sake!  
  
So you know what happened? I don’t give a fuck anymore. I’m so indifferent to the pleas nowadays, that the Wise Ones even gave up using that trick with me. They order me sternly, it works so much better. It’s more honest, at least. I think?  
  
So, Draco Malfoy, what is it that you are looking for, with me, tonight? What do you want? Why should I trust you? Why should I even want to listen to what you have to say in the first place?  
  
Not that it really matters in the present situation, right?  
  
  
 _And if you chalk it up you'll see I don't really have a choice  
So don't even ask me_  
  
  
In a way or another, I think that you, Draco Malfoy, more than anyone else, should understand the kind of situation I find myself in, right now ... don’t you understand? You could ask me anything and everything, right now, and I would deny it to you, I would refuse – even if you were to offer me the one chance to escape all this mess that’s going on around me twenty-four-seven nowadays.  
  
So _please_ , forget it. I beg you.  
  
If only for a moment, for an hour, for a day, for a week, for a month, for a year.  
Or perhaps forever.  
  
If, at some point in the future, things settle, perhaps you will be able to come back with all these things you wanted to tell me, ask me, take from me tonight. But not before. The thing is ... it is not that I am not interested in knowing what you want to say, it would be a lie to say such a thing, in fact.  
  
But.  
  
I do _not_ have a choice. I was marked when I was a toddler and this is my destiny. I probably won’t survive Voldermort, anyway. Are you certain it is _that_ important? After all, so many things shall change once he’ll have disappeared ... I know he will die, before the end. If there is nothing else I am sure of, that would be this. Voldermort will die.  
  
What if I make you a promise, Draco Malfoy? When the Dark Lord will die and if I survive, I will come back to you, I will seek you out, so you can let me know what it is you wanted with me, this very night. Would that be satisfying enough for you? Don’t ask any more than this from me, please. I am not sure anymore that I could deny it from you, and I know that I cannot. Please, Draco Malfoy, don’t do that to me. I don’t deserve someone like you and yet I would let myself dream of unreachable things because of you.  
  
Should I beg you down on my knees? I fear what you awoke in me, for I know it is the Forbidden Fruit and if nothing else, I grew up breaking laws and not giving a damn about the rules surrounding me. I do not want to be tempted.  
  
Not yet.  
  
The Others, the Wise Ones, would not permit it anyway. It – what am I saying? – _I_ would become too volatile, too unsteady for what they have planned for me.  
  
I’m so sorry, Draco Malfoy ... I’m so sorry.  
  
I would like to act terribly selfishly for once and to plead you not to forget me, meanwhile ... This thought, if nothing else, could comfort me, during the dark hours, the dark days, the dark weeks, the dark months, the dark years ... The simple thought that you know that I’ll do everything and come back for you if things go better than I expect ...  
  
Would you qualify this as ‘hope’, Draco Malfoy? Am I hoping? Am I being futile? What’s so wrong with me? I’m just a boy, just a little boy who’s a bit scared and has no control whatsoever over his own life ... And yet you’re not laughing at me. There’s this light in your eyes, and I think I know what this means.  
  
Thank you, Draco Malfoy. We will see each other again, if nothing else.  
  
  
# # #  
  
  
 _So keep on calling me names, keep on, keep on  
And I'll keep kicking the crap till it's gone_  
  
It’s good to see you again, Draco Malfoy.  
  
It has been a long time, hasn’t it? And who would have thought you’d be the one to find me in Voldemort’s dungeons? I’m a scary sight, I would guess – judging by the look on your face, I am not even sure you were expecting to find me here ... How long have I spent in these dark, confining chambers? I lost track of the time – hours, days, weeks, months, years – so long ago ... You stand there, you are insulting me, now ... and yet I can notice the tears staining your face, falling down your cheeks, and this trembling smile on your lips, and this light in you eyes ... Has it been so long already? The words you profess now, no matter how crude and brutal, feel like promises of love long lost from my sight and suddenly back within my vision field; you’re stuttering – what have I done to you, Draco Malfoy?  
  
I suddenly feel myself revive ... I did not remember how it felt like, you know? I had turned some switches off, somehow, and my body and mind where dulled and ignorant; to the pain I felt, to the torture I was submitted to, to the screams I heard – were they mine or others’, to the images forced under my sight. I never thought I would ever feel alive again.  
  
I will never be able to thank you enough for doing this, Draco Malfoy. And so, I thank you, again.  
  
How long has it been, since I last saw you? You look so different: much older, more mature, you hair is not what it used to be, and your skin is not flawless anymore. We’ll have to talk, I think. There are so many things to say. Now if you would simply stop calling me names while delicately probing me to see if there are serious injuries that would withhold me from being moved ... I haven’t used my muscles in what feels like ages and nor have I been fed properly. But is that surprising? I feel weak, and under your stare I feel ashamed of whom I have become.  
  
They broke me. Not even in regular pieces, but in a multitude of incredibly small shards, that I fear no one will ever be able t put back together to make a decent human being out of me ever again. But do you remember what I had said the last time I saw you, Draco Malfoy? That you had given me hope, no matter what? No I’ve got hope and seeing the silent, strong resolution in your gaze, there’s another emotion quickly invading me.  
  
Faith. I also said I would seek you out once everything would finally be over with. I haven’t forgotten. But have you?  
  
Could you be the person to bring all the pieces back together? I think I would like to entrust you with this and yet I do not dare ask you. Maybe when you’ve stopped looking at me in that special way, maybe when all the Aurors that are now present in the room will have left ... you’re laughing now, Draco Malfoy, and this laugh is the most beautiful sound I have heard since ... since I last heard any of my friends laugh whole-heartedly. Must have been years ago. And I laugh with you, suddenly, and the Aurors, I do not recognise even just one of them, look at the two of us as if they felt like Apparating us at St. Mungo’s.  
  
It might be a good idea, if one thinks about it for a second ... what do _you_ think, Draco Malfoy?  
  
  
 _If you keep on killing, you could get me to settle  
And as soon as I settle, I bet I'll be  
Able to move on_  
  
  
Your constant presence by my side is almost unsettling; did I ever tell you that? You do not have to stay with me, to be by my side. I do not even have a clue why you do it. You gain nothing in doing so.  
  
Funnily, I think you expected me to react badly when you took it upon yourself to let me know about our losses. Perhaps you thought I would mourn Dumbledore’s death? I am sorry to say that I can’t. After all, isn’t he the reason I first ended up in that dungeon over eighteen months ago? To be told, by you, of what they did to Snape was another thing, and to see him here, in the same wing as Neville’s parent was ... disturbing. I cannot, in my mind, accept that this ... being is Professor Snape. I refuse to believe it. He did not deserve this. Not that anyone does. But to see him reduced to that? I think he would have preferred to die than find himself in this state. But to realise that Hermione and Ginny have been killed while I was down there ... Ron’s eyes, when I finally saw him, were dead. Empty. I hurt inside, probably more than I’d had in the last six months down there, when I saw him. He lost two of the persons he most cared about and found out another one had not been dead when they’d all but stopped searching for me. He felt guilty, I could see it in him.  
  
I had to do something about it, Draco Malfoy, I had to.  
  
So I hugged him, tightly. As tightly as my still weak arms would permit me. And he hugged me back. I felt myself relive a little more, again. It was wonderful. I’d forgotten what it actually felt like.  
  
How funny is that, Malfoy? But you don’t laugh, you don’t smile, you simply hug yourself a bit tighter, understanding and perhaps a bit ... distressed? I walk to you and I hug you, too. At last.  
  
Do you know how it feels? Do you know how huge the difference now is between how I used to feel and how I feel now? Do you remember the promise I’d made to you? I promised that when the Dark Lord would die and if I survived, that I would come back to you, I would seek you out so you could tell me what this is you wanted to tell me over a year and a half ago, during very night. Do you still want me to hold to that promise, Draco Malfoy?  
  
What I mean is ... I would understand, of course, if you’d changed your mind; if you’d forgotten what you wanted to tell me – to ask me – on that night; if it was meaningless now that the War is over ... I would disappear, I would vanish into thin air, you would not hear from me again unless you wanted to.  
  
Home. I’ve come _home_. And I’ve found hope. And I’ve got a life of my own. Will you help me live it, Draco Malfoy?  
  
That light, in your eyes, is back, and you open and close your mouth without producing a single sound and suddenly you smile like a loony ... am I doing that to you? Is that a good thing? There is one single thing I have dreamed of doing for years, months, weeks, days, hours. To kiss you, to be kissed by you. Will you grant me that. Draco Malfoy? Will you tell me what you wanted to tell me, to let me know, before I was captured, before I went astray the last time? I have come to learn that important things should not be delayed, that matters of the heart – yes of the heart – should not be threatened, not be taken lightly under any circumstances. But I have taken enough distance to know I wanted to protect you from me and me from you. I was so incredibly lucky it turned out being the good decision.  
  
It’s better to regret something you did than something you didn’t do, they say. I have no regrets at all. I simply wish ... well I do not know what I’m wishing upon and it doesn’t matter anymore now, does it?  
  
  
# # #  
  
  
 _How can I fight, when we're on the same side  
How can I fight beside you_  
  
  
  
I am going to die, Draco Malfoy. I know you do not like it, but I also know that you knew it, too. I can see it in your eyes, I can feel it in the way you touch me, in the glances you keep on sending my way when you think I am not looking at you.  
  
Have you ever known me to be able not to look your way since I came back? Have you noticed a single moment when my thoughts weren’t, in a way or another, focused on you?  
  
Of course, I have not been back for so long. How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?  
  
Six weeks. Such a small span of time, you say.  
  
No.  
Listen to me.  
It’s a lifetime.  
  
For you and for me, it is all we will ever get, and it is so much more than I ever expected to be granted that I say thank you.  
  
I am dying, Draco Malfoy. Yes I am not the great Harry Potter anymore, and I am not a pawn either. In my eulogy, you will be able to say truthfully that I died a happy man. Tell Ron, too, if you please. Tell him ... tell him not to mourn me, that there is no reason to. Perhaps if ... perhaps if you had not found me in the first place, yes, it would have been a sad, though expected, End. But you did find me and we had this unique opportunity to make up for the past. How many can’t, Draco Malfoy? I’m thankful.  
  
I am not scared, you know? I feel calm, relieved even, you could say. Who knows how long before I would have started being haunted by nightmares? It won’t happen, now, I will go to sleep with a smile on my face, and it is all because of you, Draco Malfoy.  
  
All because of you. You are here, here with me. You are holding my hand, maybe a bit too hard, but I think you need this just as much as I need you right now and, honestly, what’s a little pain like this when I’ve got the whole You to make up for it?  
  
You’re crying again, and your cheeks are wet and your eyes are red from trying not to let the tears fall out of your eyes and you stutter and you insult me and you give me a small, trembling smile through all those tears and it’s more than you could ever give me in this moment. That and ...  
  
...  
  
... this kiss. I know what you can’t say, Draco Malfoy. I know it, I understand it, you and I have never been the best at saying how we feel, have we? Your voice is failing you, I know you’d like to say the words out loud – for me but mostly for yourself – but I don’t need them.  
  
Never needed them.  
  
Ever since that first night when you went out to look for me, when I stopped you from talking, from saying those words I dreaded to hear back then, I knew. I knew and I didn’t want to hear them though I wanted to believe in the feelings that had you wanting to say them.  
  
‘Me too, Draco.’  
  
  
~*~ _finis_ ~*~


End file.
